Miguelina

Rollercoaster...

So, to answer the question everyone keeps asking me: How am I doing?

Fine. Just fine.

Which doesn't mean that life with three kids isn't a roller coaster, and that I'm not barely hanging on some days, while other days I'm just coasting along, enjoying the ride.

It's...a lot. The three kids part. Kind of shocking, actually. 

And then it's not. 

I'm extremely lucky - my husband is a class-A father and partner, most of my family has come to visit and help out, even though they live in Miami and I'm up here in Boston - and my friends have been nothing short of amazing. No really, they're Amazing: Coming over with food and drinks (of the adult variety) and playing with my kids and have been nothing if not patient and wonderful, and won't you believe it! I've run out of thank you notes because people have been too kind. Even people I hardly know.

THAT my friends, is luck. And I appreciate it more than I could ever express, even though I'm supposed to be a writer.

But! The recovery from this birth has been tougher on me in so many ways. Physically (as the nurse so kindly reminded me "you've stretched your insides as far as they can take, for a third time, things won't be the same for a long time, if ever") and emotionally. I can actually feel the hormonal changes - my temperature goes up and down, I want to see people and then I don't. I cry. I laugh. I sit in silence. I lose my patience. I'm at peace. I won't shut up.

I know it's all normal. But that doesn't mean it doesn't take some getting used to.

Exhibit A of my roller coaster life: I saw a pregnant woman yesterday, AND I WAS JEALOUS OF HER. Me! Who wouldn't shut up about my big fat pregnancy and how ready I was to give birth. (Don't believe me? Reference, oh, every post on this site since about May or something.)

Exhibit B: Baby names. I'm second guessing our choice of name. Not because we don't love the name, but because random people can't say Matthias. (It's Ma-TEE-as!) I love the name. It's a very popular name...internationally. I guess it's not so much here. Oops! We know so many Matthiases, but I guess my son will be the first for many of our US friends. That makes me sad some days. Other days, I'm all "tough noogies folks!" - our family is an international family (our children have both US and EU citizenship) and it's not like we're going to name our boys Bob* to make things easier for strangers.

(Not that there's anything wrong with Bob. You know what I mean.)

(Oh, let's face it...people are going to call him Matt. Sigh.)

ANYWAYS! The boys need me. Gotta go. Stay well. I promise to do the same.

Matthias!

Meet Matthias. (His name is the Spanish/German version of Matthew. It's pronounced Ma-TEE-us.)

He's already 14 days old, but he was only an hour old when I took this picture.

He was born at 9:05 AM on October 12. It seems like he's been a part of our family all along. Isn't it funny how that works out?

Matthias has been a model baby so far. I'm exhausted, of course, but I can't really blame it on sleep deprivation - at least not yet. He's dozing peacefully in this picture, but he was born with his eyes wide open, and he's always looking around - I think he can't wait to join his very, very, VERY active brothers.

I haven't figured out the whole "life with three boys" thing - how will I get to the grocery store? What if they all want to ride in the stroller? WHAT THEN? But I guess I'll figure it out as I go along.

For now, we're enjoying being spoiled by friends and family. We're very grateful. 

In other news, I looked down today and you won't believe what I saw...MY TOES! (It's been a while.)

I'm the Rip Van Winkle of Pregnant Women

No, really.  I'm STILL pregnant. I know you've heard this one before, but I've been pregnant since January, and since it is now October, you will forgive me for being a bit repetitive.

I'm scheduled for an induction, but that's still a week away. I'm scheduled for a battery of tests, but those won't happen until the weekend. I'm starting to think that my OBGYN is running some sort of evil experiment where she is testing just how much pregnancy a female body can handle. My bones hurt, that's how heavy this belly is. My back spasms and contractions are so bad at times that we went into the hospital AGAIN...and were promptly sent home with the diagnosis of false labor. But this time they were nice enough to give me a sleeping pill because they couldn't figure out how I was going to get any rest with those contractions.

That was three days ago. I have nothing else to say about that.

My Three Sons (Hold Me)

It's official: I'm a mom of boys!

I wasn't the least bit surprised when the ultrasound clearly showed the extra appendage that made it official. Three boys. Wow. Most days I'm pretty sure I can handle it, but then I have a day like yesterday -- when the two year old lodged a Lego up his nose (yes, really - and yes, it was bloody), was run over by the eight year-old neighbor driving a 4X4 power wheel and both boys insisted they were still hungry. At 9:00 PM.  After dinner and a snack.

I may need to go back to work just to pay for the extra groceries.

Then again, I've already trained the boys to always put the toilet seat down AND to wipe the toilet after each use. A sticky toilet is a crime punishable by ... well, I've never actually told them, but they're clever enough not to leave evidence behind and find out.

I may have this boy parenting thing down.

Weeks 12-20

Well, you are all probably wondering what in the HELL I've been up to all month. I've been busy! BUSY! I tell you. I've been sick. TWICE. One of my kids developed a couple of mystery rashes. I bought a typewriter. I was so desperate because of seasonal allergies that I tried a neti pot (but don't worry, I'll spare you the details). I've been shopping for bigger clothes, because, lest ye forget, I've also been gestating.

Aaaand, that's all I've got.

In other words, my life is too boring for words. So you know what that means, right?

PICTURES!

Here I am at around week 12:

Look at how rested I am! Hell, I'm even wearing lipstick. I miss those days.

Here is the baby at just about the same time:

Cute little bugger.

Week 16

This picture was taken right after a four year-old's birthday party. No, I didn't eat the four year-old, but I did steal one of the kid's bowls of mac n cheese. What can I say? The BABY needs nutrition! I mean, look at it:

The baby's practically begging for it! How could I say no?

And here's week 18:

You will notice a craptastic cropping job. I looked awful that day, and I still have some dignity left. Oh, and the baby:

Still chilling out.

In other words, things are good. I'm on my 20th week, but I haven't found the energy to take a picture of the belly. But don't worry! It's still there.

(Trust me.)

Let the guessing games begin...

You guys. Thank you so much! I've just reread your comments (again!) and I can't believe how nice you all are. Smooches!

I noticed a bit of good-natured hinting at the fact that we may be expecting a girl this time. When I found out that my second would be a boy, I wrote about my hard-won acceptance of the fact that both my children would be male. I'm not going to lie - it wasn't easy, but just as I suspected at the time, I've taken to my boy-mama role quite well. I'm also not going to lie to you now: If this third baby is a boy, it would be wonderful.

I'm not just saying that.

You see, I'm so used to having boys that adding another one would obviously be the easiest option. We have every possible combination of jeans/shorts/tees/button down shirts possible. We have every Playmobil and Lego set known to man, as well as an extensive collection of trucks. We're set.

I've also come to not only accept, but appreciate, the fact that I get to mother boys. I can't know if mothers of girls feel the same way, but I've noticed that it's very easy for me to just let my boys be themselves because they don't look like mini versions of me so I don't expect them to react to things in the same way I would. Also, they like to run and push each other, and I just can't relate to that. The best part is that they can relate to each other, and while they crash their trucks or pretent to be Spiderman for the upteenth time, I can give myself a manicure. I'm always pleasantly surprised when it turns out that in a lot of ways my boys are miniature versions of me - they have a lot of the same personality traits that I do, and yes, they even look like me - at times.

It's great having boys. I get to have my cake and eat it too.

Now, a confession: If this baby's a girl? I would love it too. To experience mothering a girl, to relive girlhood? That would be amazing too.

And I'm not just saying that.

The "momification" of our first lady? Dude, she's already a mom.

Maybe there's something wrong with me, but I read this article on Salon about the "momification" of Michelle Obama and I don't get why the writer's so mad. So she's going to be in charge of the family's transition to Washington. So?

It's Michelle's job because Daddy is going to be the president, and he has to save the country and the world from an economic crisis and war, and so he might be too busy to come check out the new schools and decorate their rooms and help with the dog. But the fact is, he seems to be a pretty good dad, and I bet he will do some of that stuff anyway. What rankles is the smooth and unquestioning assumptions by the media that the fallback position is to assign all those duties to Michelle.

Did I miss something?

Who else is going to do it? Does the writer want her to go back to managing a hospital? I'd rather have her in the White House where she can be a standard-bearer for working women (and yes, many of them are mothers and thus "momified"). Yes, at one point in their married life she was making more money than he was. Yes, she used to be his superior at the law firm where they met. But their lives have changed. They seem to have adapted, even though it wasn't easy. (Barack admits to it himself - there's a lengthy quote in the article.) She decided to support him in his political career. They've both made sacrifices because of that and they both seem to value family life above all. Good for them.

I remember reading somewhere that he was visibly upset when he told an interviewer that he could only spend two hours with the girls after they got their Christmas tree because of the campaign. But then he did the school drop-off on the morning he was to leave to go to the White House as President-elect. He obviously chose to do that - and sent a message that being a dad is important to him. I didn't see anyone complaining about the "dadification" of Barack Obama. 

Does everything have to be offensive?

The fact that she has chosen to call herself Mom-in-Chief makes me love her even more because it's reminiscent of how many of us choose to call ourselves Stay-at-Home-Mothers instead of housewives. She's one of us. Motherhood - parenthood - is a source of pride to our generation, not an offensive label. But you guys know that.

I guess the writer fell into the generation gap. This lame attempt at reigniting the "Mommy-Wars" gets a big shrug from me.

Halloween Revisited

If you ever want to gain six pounds in one night, I highly recommend walking around your neighborhood with a scarecrow and puppy, knocking on the neighbor's doors and threatening them with a "twick!" if you don't get a "tweat."

It works like magic.

He inherited the smart alec genes.

Him: (Pushing uneaten lunch away.) All done!

Me: No you're not.

Him: Why? Why? Whyyyyy?

Me: Because you haven't even touched the meat on your plate.

Him: Pats the meat with his fingers.

Me: Done! Can I watch Max and Ruby now?

Super Zinnias

I bought a packet of zinnia seeds the other day. (I swear this isn't going to turn into a gardening blog.)

Let me explain why I bought seeds: My husband was out of town and I thought that planting them and watching them grow would be a fun educational activity for my three-year old. And I was desperate for something to do with the kid, so a $5.99 packet of seeds seemed like a great idea at the time. (The time being at the grocery store with two hungry kids and an entire afternoon to fill. All by myself. Did I mention that already? WOE IS ME.)

This may come as a shock to you, but the kid lost interest in planting the seeds after 3 minutes - coincidentally, the amount of time it took me to open the seed packet. He got bored with the seed-plant-flower life cycle and became fascinated with an earthworm. I wouldn't let him torture it with a twig, so he got angry and emptied the entire packet of seeds in one spot. And then we went inside the house because his screaming tantrum was scaring his little brother, and two screaming kids in the hot sun is No Fun At All.

What happened next? Nothing. I completely forgot about the flowers...until yesterday that is, when I noticed a bunch of seedlings growing in the general area where Sebastian had emptied the packet of seeds. I was honestly surprised that the seeds managed to thrive since I never watered or fed them or even bothered to cover them in dirt. Since those seeds survived such neglect, I figured the least I could do was thin them out. And that is how I spent a lovely Sunday morning: Carefully digging the seedlings out, prepping the earth, and replanting them in neat little rows. I then watered them and admired my handiwork for a bit.

It was a lot of work, but it was worth it. They looked so happy now that they could breathe!

My hands were already dirty, so I thought I might as well go back and tackle the scary corner of the yard that has become overgrown with weeds. (I should tell you, that's where the brown hairy spiders have made their home. Funny how that works.) However, I'd been such a gardening rockstar all morning that I wasn't going to let some furry insects stop me, no matter how scary and jumpy.

So I took a deep breath, got on my knees, and go to work.

It didn't take long for me to notice that the weeds looked...familiar - VERY familiar. I ripped one out of the ground and headed to my "zinnia" patch.

It was a perfect match.

I've either spent a perfectly fine Sunday morning lovingly and carefully thinning weeds or the spiders have been growing zinnias, and they're better at it than me. I'm pissed off either way.